John Burris: Insights From Andy And Frank

I’m more of an Andy Taylor man. I’m not so much of a Frank Underwood man.

These two political characters – separated by decades between The Andy Griffith Show and House of Cards – offer a contrast in the approach to dealing with people and power.

Given Arkansas’ remarkable political shift, the differences in the two men might be helpful guidance for all the newly elected officials in their new roles of influence. Good examples are needed, and they’re hard to find in 2015.

It’s important because power – or even the proximity to it – can make people do funny things. It doesn’t matter if it’s a Sheriff, Congressman, or anything else; the title is irrelevant. It’s how the person chooses to carry the power that matters. And that’s why the differences in Andy and Frank are worth considering.

The two men wear their titles very differently. Andy is confident; Frank is arrogant. I’d like to think there is a difference, though the line is sometimes hard to honor.

It’s odd, but some of the most insecure people seek out titles and power. It’s a path to validation. In politics, if you think the job you’re doing makes you important, you’re probably the wrong person for the job.

We all remember that Andy never wears a gun. He usually just strolled around like everyone else, unassuming, but always quietly in control. Frank is the opposite. He spends virtually his whole life never being content, constantly trying to acquire the more powerful thing.

Even in something like state government, I’ve seen people cling to things even smaller than titles to add to their own self-importance. Maybe it’s a committee assignment. Maybe it’s an office location. Maybe it’s the title of their boss. Either way, it’s something Frank – not Andy – would care about.

Above all else, we should like Andy Taylor because of the way he makes others around him feel. Mayor or town drunk, the treatment is fair and friendly. It’s never hostile, manipulative or worst yet, condescending. He’s not afraid to let others succeed. He’s patient and helpful.

He lives in a town of ordinary people, including your hillbillies, half-wits, drunks and gossips. He doesn’t see himself as better than all of them. His job is to help them and by doing so, makes them feel better about who they are, not worse.

Only the weak are cruel. Frank Underwood is the weakest of all, by that definition. He’s the type of bully that Andy would have had to let Opie confront.

I don’t want to make too much of all of this comparison. Andy and Frank are both fictional, I know. It’s smart to be hesitant in drawing too much of a real-world application from either one.

Television shows are made for entertainment. They’re full of hyperbole and over-simplifications. We watch them for a distraction. Still, they offer some degree of insight into our culture.

So as folks settle into their roles of elected official, political staffer, bureaucrat, or general politico, I’m hoping they’re watching less Netflix and more TV Land.

The character of Frank Underwood is fun to watch, but would be tragic if he actually existed, or even if a few of his traits became the role model for those with any level of power. On the other hand, there are some pretty simple and basic lessons that can be learned from a man like Andy Taylor.

All those in politics – whether in Washington D.C. or Little Rock, Arkansas – would be better served to try to be more like an Andy and less like a Frank. It’s okay to binge-watch House of Cards all weekend long. Just make sure your reality isn’t skewed Monday morning, or you’ll be more sour than a jar of Aunt Bee’s pickles.

In fact, for all the want-to-be Frank Underwood’s out there, Google an episode of The Andy Griffith Show, and watch that while getting ready for the day. Your co-workers and your state will be better served by choosing your character wisely.